Sherlock came home that night smelling of heavily burned campfire and petrol. He had soot smeared across his cheek and he sighed as he walked in, pulling off his gloves, scarf, and coat and leaving them by the door. He looked exhausted. You stood as he entered, waiting to hear what had happened.
"Some group of people kidnapped him, threw him in the middle of a bonfire. He was almost burned alive." Sherlock spoke softly as he walked over to you.
"But he's okay." You scanned Sherlock and he nodded, his curls bouncing as he did so.
"He went home with Mary." You nodded at Sherlock's words, looking over his movements. You didn't want to jump to conclusions but it appeared as if Sherlock was stressed. Who wouldn't be? Some random group of punks kidnapped John and tried to kill him. He could've died. Who knows why they did it or if it was connected to the possible terrorist attack. You couldn't be sure, but Sherlock had every right to be at least a little stressed or overwhelmed. Maybe even worried.
You knew what always helped clear Sherlock Holmes' mind when he was worried or stressed. You crossed the room, carefully picking up his violin. "Play me something?" You held the violin out to him and he looked up at you before taking it carefully from your hands. You sat on the sofa as you watched him close his eyes in concentration. When the bow collided with the violin's strings a beautiful melody began playing out. Sherlock seemed to enter an entirely different headspace as his eyebrows creased slightly, his eyes still closed. His fingers danced across the neck board, producing lovely notes.
You closed your eyes along with him, just letting it sink into your skin. It made you feel much calmer and at peace. You could tell why this helped Sherlock think. This was an entirely different world. You sighed happily as Sherlock finished off the song.
"Nocturne Number 2." You looked up at him, feeling much more at ease after listening to him play. "One of my favorites of Chopin's."
"Want to learn some?" He held his violin towards you and you looked at him with a twisted face. Sherlock trusted you to play his violin? You didn't know anything about technique when it came to playing instruments. You just knew a lot of classical music.
"Oh, I don't know about that. I don't know anything about-"
"Come on, entertain me." Sherlock held out his hand for you to take and you sighed, letting him pull you to your feet. He was lucky you liked him. He placed the violin in your hands and you frowned, turning it around as you looked at it.
"I don't even know how to hold it." You gave him an unsure look, but that just made him look that much more determined. He quickly came to your aid, adjusting the violin in your hands to show you how to hold it. He was the one doing all the work, you just let him move your arms around to show you how it was done.
"Good." He commented, taking your other hand in his as he gently placed the bow in it, rapping his fingers around yours so they enclosed around the bow correctly. "Now just gently pull it across the strings, not too much pressure." He instructed you. You looked up at him, placing the bow above the strings before you gently dragged it across the strings. It let out an evil hiss and you cringed. Sherlock chuckled at you.
"I'm not good at this." You shook your head ready to give up. You were pulling the violin from your shoulder as Sherlock quickly stopped you.
"No, you're doing great. I promise." He told you. You stuck your lips out in a pout, resting the violin back on your shoulder and looking to Sherlock for more instructions.
"Here, I'll help so you can feel how much pressure you need." Without warning, Sherlock walked around you, wrapping his right arm over yours and gently placing his hand with yours on the bow. He tucked his chin on your right shoulder so he could see the violin as he pulled the bow effortlessly over the strings.
This time the violin let out a beautiful open note instead of a screech. It sounded nice. Sherlock let go, telling you to try it yourself. Knowing how much pressure to put this time, you ran the bow over the strings and produced a slightly better sound than before. At least it didn't want to make you want to cover your ears in pain.
"Hey! That was better than last time!" He looked proud as you grinned at him like a child for accomplishing something.
He then began teaching you different notes and how to change your finger placement to use them. He also showed you how to only hit certain strings with the bow when you wanted to play certain notes. By the end of Sherlock's lesson, you were shakily playing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'. It sounded really bad. You just weren't cut out for musical instruments, at least now you knew. When you finished you took a bow, causing Sherlock to erupt in laughter.
"Thank you, I'll be here all night!" You stood, smiling at Sherlock's laughter. You loved his laugh. It was deep and made your heart melt as his eyes crinkled up at you in a smile.
"I think that's enough violin playing for one night." He collected his violin to put it back where it belonged.
"Are you saying you don't want to hear me play 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'?!" You placed both hands on your hips as you looked to Sherlock with a serious look. He chuckled and you rolled your eyes at him. "Seriously, I feel like you're hinting at the fact I suck at playing the violin."
"I was." He grinned at you and you gasped, smacking him across the chest. He began laughing again and you shook your head at him.
"How rude! You said I was doing great!" You spoke sarcastically.
"Yeah, for an amateur." Your mouth dropped open as you took fake offense to his comment. Sherlock continued to chuckle as he crossed to the hallway towards his bedroom.
"I am no amateur." You followed him, not ready to lose this fight. You technically were an amateur at the violin but that didn't matter.
"Mmmhmmm." Sherlock muttered, pushing the door open to his room. You huffed at him, it was his idea to teach you and now he was making fun of you.
"Don't make me tickle you, Holmes." You threatened in a low voice. Sherlock turned to where you were standing in the doorway, a bored expression in his face. The nerve he had!
"I'm not ticklish" He spoke monotone.
"Please, everyone is. You just have to know where to look. And by your nervous weight shift to the left I know where to go!" You launched yourself at him, tackling him into the bed.
"No, stop!" Sherlock laughed as you put all your weight on his waist, your back turned towards his face. You desperately grabbed for his kicking feet and once you got one you pried off his shoe, wrapping an arm around his leg to secure it.
"Say that I'm not an amateur." You told him, grinning at his slightly annoyed but entertained look. He looked at you with narrowed eyes as if thinking if you'd really tickle his foot or not. You dropped your hand lower to his foot and he squirmed. You enjoyed holding this power in your hands.
"No." He spoke. As soon as the word left his mouth you began tickling his foot. He let out a loud laugh, kicking to try to get you off his foot. You laughed along with him, continuing to tickle his foot through all his kicking. Eventually, Sherlock managed to get you off of him and he pinned you to the bed with a mischievous grin. You looked up at him with wide eyes, begging him not to do it.
"No, no, I'm sorry. I'm soR-" You screeched with laughter as Sherlock began tickling your stomach. You tried to smack his hands away, but he had them pinned under his knees. "Mercy, MERCY! I give up!" You breathed heavily, tears coming from your eyes from laughing so hard.
Sherlock finally let up, grinning in victory. You now knew to never challenge Sherlock with a tickling fight ever again. "I declare my loss to the unfair advantage of you being way stronger than me." You told him with a serious nod. He just laughed down at you, letting his knees up slightly to let your arms free. With your now free hands you grabbed his now messy button up shirt, pulling him towards you. You gave him a quick kiss, parting to give him a smile. He looked down at you, a small smile still present on his face.
You pulled him down again for another kiss, this one a little longer. When you pulled away Sherlock looked disappointed. You smiled, again kissing him. This time with more passion. Your lips seemed to move in sync as Sherlock cupped your face softly in his hands, deepening the kiss. You smiled against his lips, reaching your arms up to his neck as Sherlock pulled away to pepper kisses along your jaw and down to the nape of your neck. You let out a soft groan as you curled your fingers in Sherlock's hair, leaning further into the bed.
"Sherlock, I'm going to Barts tomorrow for that job." You told him in between breaths as he moved to your shoulder, slipping your sleeve out of the way.
"So?" He questioned between kisses, having no intention of stopping anytime soon.
"So... I can't show up with, oh, nevermind." You bit your lip, fumbling with the buttons on Sherlock's shirt.
***
The next day you woke up early to shower and head out to Barts. You hummed happily as you emerged from the shower's warmth, wrapping a towel around your body as you went off to find something to wear.
Sherlock was still in bed, but looked over to you with squinted eyes as you entered the room. You fumbled through your clothing, frustrated as you couldn't find anything. "Sherlock, I can't wear any of these clothes." You groaned.
"Why?" Sherlock scanned you with a clueless look and you glared at him through squinted eyes.
"Because all my work clothes don't have high enough neck lines! I can't go into a job interview with a huge hickey on my neck!" You pouted, looking through your clothes once again.
"It's winter, wear a turtleneck."
"I never wear turtlenecks!" Sherlock laughed at you and you shot him an angry look, you didn't find this funny.
"Come on, Sherlock. It's my first day back, I really need to figure something out." You told him with sad eyes. He looked at you a moment before he let out a long breath.
"Take my scarf or something." He offered with a shrug. You looked at him with a wide smile.
"You'd let me take your scarf?"
"Sure." He shrugged. You smiled at him, walking over to kiss his cheek. "You're the best." You quickly got dressed then pulled on Sherlock's scarf and your coat, heading to Barts.
The day was a long one filled with lots of paperwork and talking to bosses that already knew you. Of course they gave you the job right off the bat, but they all wanted to know how you and Sherlock faked your deaths and why. You pushed it to the side deciding it was best if they didn't know too much about your personal life other than what they read in the papers or saw on the news. After you got done with paperwork, you dropped off your things in your new office. You'd brought them along because you knew that you would get the job no matter what.
You spent some time sorting through everything and setting it up how you liked. Once it finally felt like home, you left it realizing it was far past lunch time already. It was time to head back to the flat and try to figure out more on this vanishing man case.
As you walked up the flat's stairs you started pulling off your coat, folding it over your arm. You then pulled Sherlock's scarf over your head as you entered the flat.
"Sherlock, thank you for letting me borrow your scarf, they didn't even-" You stopped quickly when you saw an elderly couple sitting on the couch, smiling over at you. With one scan of them your face went pale as you turned to Sherlock with a weak grin. Sherlock's parents were sitting right in front of you in the flat. This was not okay.